By that time Mr. Holden had entered, and was surveying the scene with his disagreeable smile.
“Little Mary is quite attached to Herbert,” said the doctor.
“I am sorry,” said Mr. Holden, “that I have no little girls, as Herbert seems fond of them.”
Herbert doubted if he could become attached to anyone related to Mr. Holden.
“I'm a bachelor,” said Mr. Holden, “though perhaps I ought to be ashamed to say so. If I had had the good fortune early in life to encounter a lady like your good wife here, it might have been different.”
“It isn't too late yet, Mr. Holden,” said the doctor.
“Well, perhaps not. If Mrs. Kent is ever a widow, I may try my luck.”
“What a disagreeable man,” thought the doctor's wife, not propitiated by the compliment. “Herbert,” she said, “here are a couple of handkerchiefs I bought in the village yesterday. I hope you will find them useful.”
“Yes; no doubt he will,” said Mr. Holden, laughing. “He will think of you whenever he has a bad cold.”
Nobody even smiled at this witty sally, and, Mr. Holden, a little disappointed, remarked: “Well, time's getting on. I guess we must be going, as we have a long journey before us.”